The Second Arrangement
by EleanoraPoe
Summary: While on patrol, Buffy confronts a shady demon in a black Bentley. Can Crowley and the slayer come to an agreement or will they destroy each other first? Light crossover fic with a spoiler for BTVS seasons 5 and 6.


**A/N: For this story to be faithful to canon, it must be set in BTVS early season 6. But because it's just for fun, I'm not going to worry about the details. Reviews are welcome! Full credit goes to brilliant Joss Whedon, Neil Gaiman, and Terry Pratchett, who are nice enough to not care how much we mess around with their creations. **

Buffy filed her nails as she waited for the demon to appear. She would have rather been at the Bronze with Willow and Xander, indulging in what might be their last ever chance to party, but it was her duty to patrol. The Apocalypse was coming, again. Giles was bouncing around the stacks like a pinball these days, frantic that this might be the big one. The one they lose.

With one swift motion, Buffy swept the stick across her finger, cutting the nail to the quick. _Damn_, she was on edge. The last few months had not been easy, what with Buffy's new lease on life. This time around the world was cold and hard and different, and once again at risk. If she didn't get the information she needed tonight…

Buffy shook her head clear. She focused instead on how she would deal with this particular mark. According to her sources, the mysterious stranger was after something in the magic shop, something to do with Armageddon. He probably wasn't a vampire, since the first time she'd seen him was in broad daylight, lurking around the gas station and casually turning all the petroleum into tar. And apparently he liked the 4 pm happy hour at Willy's Bar. Death by stake was out of the question then, but she had a gift for him all the same. Buffy reached into her pocket and stroked a clear bottle of Chanel no. 5, emptied and filled to the top with something far more dangerous.

A faint purr came from the darkness and the sound made the slayer stiffen, her joints aligning into pliable weapons of muscle and bone. She zeroed in on the car, a sleek Bentley, its motor singing as it pulled up next to the Magic Box. A beautiful, glossy thing in brimstone black. _Sexy_, she thought. Then she walked up to the car and punched a hole through its window.

"How are we today, Mr. Lurk-y? "

With one swift motion she yanked a figure through the broken glass and deposited him violently on the pavement.

The man flipped to his feet and shook himself angrily.

"Please don't hurt my car," he said, tongue flickering like a miniature whip.

"Don't take it personally, it's just my job."

"That's what I keep saying!"

Buffy went in for a punch but her target vanished and the only thing she made contact with was the Bentley, its rear view mirror ricocheting off her forehead. The ground came up to meet her. Sprawled on the sidewalk, Buffy caught a glimpse of what she thought were a pair of green alligator boots. The demon loomed over her, his mouth quirked in an amused little smile. His eyes were unreadable under dark sunglasses.

Buffy whipped the perfume bottle out from under her jacket and when her opponent saw it, he gave what sounded like a little hiss.

"I assume that's…"

"Holy water, yeah," she said.

Buffy clicked her nail on the glass bottle and made a big show of sloshing the liquid from side to side. The demon blanched.

"Answer my questions and I won't decide to freshen you up."

"Alright then," he said reasonably, his voice the texture of fine leather. "I have all the time in the world. Which means I have next to no time whatsoever. So what do you want?"

The slayer straightened herself up to full height and used one hand to dust off her denim jacket.

"First question, and this is important…What's with the shades? It's midnight. Are you the undead Bono or something?"

The demon adjusted his glasses protectively. He remained silent, guessing correctly that this was not a question the slayer wanted an answer to.

"Second question… Who are you and what do you want?"

"That's two questions," the demon pointed out. "And you can call me Crowley."

"Nice to meet you, Crowley. I'm Buffy. Now answer the other question or I'll melt your arm off."

"Buffy?"

The demon's voice crackled with dark brown laughter.

"Yeah, Buffy. Is there something wrong with my name?"

"No, its great," said Crowley. "I invented it actually, so it's sort of a point of pride. I get paid overtime every time a mother names her child Buffy. Also, Seymour. Do you know any Seymours?"

Buffy put her hand—the hand that wasn't aiming the deadly perfume bottle—defiantly on her hip. "Buffy Summers," she repeated. "It's a good name!"

"Summers."

Crowley halted laughing to bite his lip thoughtfully. And then he laughed harder. "Buffy Summers. Would you know, I've actually heard of you."

"Yeah, I'm the Slayer," she said. "The Chosen One. The PO'd Terminator of Annoying Demon Guys. I think most of your kind have heard of me."

"No, not cus' of your gig." Crowley's tongue flickered across his lips as if the very words were delicious. He raised a finger to the sky. "I heard about you from Them."

Buffy followed his gaze upwards and saw nothing. Just a stretch of rolling black, with no moon or stars. A warm California breeze brushed the back of her neck and she found herself shivering at its touch. It was disconcerting. The man was grinning like a carved pumpkin, but she still couldn't see if his eyes were smiling as well.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"The Authorities up there. In Heaven." He coughed to cleanse his mouth before continuing. "The way I hear it, you died and managed to make it into the club, marked in the golden book and everything. Then one day you vanished. The higher ups just went mad trying to figure out where you'd gone. It was a witch spell, wasn't it? Gotta love a witch."

"How do you know about that?"

Buffy's mouth felt like it was colored with chalk. It made her want to slay the guy, information be damned.

"I have connections," said Crowley. "Even supernaturals like to gossip over a cup of tea sometimes. Now I don't blame you getting out while you could. It's boring up there."

"It was beautiful," she said defensively. "It was warm and comforting…but I can't remember…" Buffy plunged around in her memory for an image to hold on to, but all she could recall was the general feeling of it.

"You probably wouldn't remember, I s'pose that's normal for cases like yours. You'll just have to take my word for it then. Really, there is nothing to do up there but ride ponies and watch the Sound of Music marathon. Who could stand an eternity of that?"

"Stop it," she said, her lips trembling in anger. She could feel herself growing cold, personality shutting off the way it did when she thought about things she would rather avoid thinking about. The earth felt suddenly heavy under her feet. It was all so much uglier than she remembered.

"I hear they have a swimming pool now but it doesn't even have a diving board."

"Shut up!"

Buffy launched herself at Crowley with all of her slayer strength. Three feet in the air she looked rather intimidating, even to a demon, with her wild round eyes and nostrils flared in anger. A roundhouse kick caught Crowley in the chest just before he could clear the way.

"You wouldn't get it," she whispered to him as he hit the ground. "You don't know what it was like for me."

"Losing your divinity?" he rasped. "You know, I think I understand how that feels."

Stalemate. For a long time neither of them said anything. They took some time to recover, Buffy examining her snapped nail while Crowley dusted off his suit. The warm wind continued to rush down the street but it was starting to smell more and more like sulfur.

Finally, Crowley checked his watch and sighed when he saw the time.

"I'm looking for the Book of St. Jasper the Gratuitous," he said. "Do you know where I can find it?"

"Yeah," said Buffy weakly. "I think it's in the shop. Giles won't stop going on about the prophecies."

"Exactly, so how about I do you a favor and take it off your hands? Trust me, you don't want it anyway."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you want the book?"

"It's for a friend," Crowley said innocently.

"Oh really? A friend?"

"I mean an enemy."

"So why doesn't your _friend_ come for the book himself?"

Crowley casually stretched his arms out in front of him, cracking his wrists and stretching each long finger until it popped. "We figured that once we found the book, it might need to be taken by force," he said. "My friend is not so good with the force part. But I, on the other hand…"

"Not gonna happen," said Buffy.

"I'm asking nicely," hissed Crowley.

They circled each other in the deserted street. It was the classic minuet between predator and prey, but it was hard to tell which was which at any given moment. Almost playfully, Crowley streaked past her to the door but Buffy answered with well-placed spray of holy water. The puff of mist drifted three centimeters from Crowley's face, forcing him to reel back. He ground his very sharp teeth in frustration.

"Listen," he said, "this is important. We're trying to save the world. If the Apocalypse does go down, I'm pretty sure you'll have more to lose than I will."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh wait, don't tell me! You are a repentant demon who wants to save humanity and seek redemption. Please don't say you have a soul too."

"I am _not _repentant!" he huffed. "But I do want to help."

She eyed Crowley carefully. The fact that he was smooth and accent-having and dressed all in black did not historically bode well for her, but she could sense that he had power. This was not the average demon that rounded out her weekly kill ratio. This guy knew things.

"You're right," she said. "Something big is coming. We already have a team working on it."

"No offense, Buffy, but this is a little above your pay grade. If you value beer, shopping malls, or any kind of good music then you want my help."

Buffy ran her fingers through her hair as she considered this. On one hand, this could be an evil demon that was just waiting to massacre all of the Scoobies in their sleep. Then again, the world was going to end anyway, so maybe the chance was worth it. This reminded her of a similar agreement she had made with a vampire years ago... a bargain that had ended in success, as well as a tangle of personal heartbreak. Buffy thought fleetingly that maybe she wasn't the right person to be making all of these decisions.

"I'll make you a deal," she said finally. "I can't just give you the book, but I will let you talk it over with somebody who knows more about this stuff than I do. Meet me here tomorrow. I'll share the prophecies and you will tell me everything that you know."

"I'll tell you the stuff that's relevant," said Crowley. "The rest of it you really don't want to hear."

"Okay," she said. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, we do. You better follow through," he said with a glistening smile, "or I'll bring back-up."

Buffy nodded and pivoted on her stacked heel. She tried not to imagine what he was talking about as she huddled into her jacket. Even in the 90 degree heat, everyone in Sunnydale was starting to feel a nasty chill. In a few days that ominous cold feeling would start to spread from the Hellmouth and infect the rest of the world. After that, only God knew what was in store.

Buffy sighed. At least if things were getting truly bad then maybe this new alliance wasn't such a stupid idea after all. She paused and called back over her shoulder, "Hey Crowley! How do I know I can trust you?"

In the darkness Buffy couldn't see him shrug, so she went home without an answer.


End file.
